Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(48)

Still, I wondered what went on in her head, what she would say if somehow I could rip that filter she wore to shreds. I had been around my mother for more than eighteen years of my life, and I still had no idea who she really was.

“So, things are all set up, then?” Dad asked when the waiter was gone.

“Pretty close. The different areas of the shop are in order for the most part. I need to work on the schedule, on what classes I want to offer consistently and brainstorm the first few special workshops. I’m waiting on some additional supplies and a few furniture items, too, and I’d like to get some art and décor on the walls before I consider announcing the opening. But, I think we’re getting close.”

My heart squeezed, because I couldn’t believe I’d turned it around in such short notice, that everything I’d imagined coming to life was within my grasp.

It wouldn’t have been possible without a certain man whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.

My brother seemed to have read my mind, because he harrumphed a laugh, chugging what was left in his champagne flute before refilling it to the top. “I heard you had some help yesterday.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just smirked. I loved my brother — truly, I did — but he was a kiss up, and always liked to be on Dad’s good side. Not that it was hard for him to be the favorite child, since he stayed out of trouble for the most part and did any and everything Dad asked of him.

I, on the other hand, would do the exact opposite of what my father expected on principle alone.

He’d told me one time in high school when we were in a fight that I was the favorite child, that I was all our parents ever talked about. I realized then that maybe part of him resented me for it. But what he didn’t understand was that they talked about me because they wanted to change me, to stop my embarrassment on the family.

He was their pride and joy, and I was not after that title.

“Oh?” Mom asked, polite as ever. “Was it one of your girlfriends?”

I snorted, because my entire family knew there wasn’t a single girl in Stratford whom I got along with.

Dad gave a disapproving grunt of his own. “Let me guess, it was that gay friend of yours, right? What’s his name?” He waved his hand with a wrinkled nose. “Christoph or something?”

“Chris,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. “His name doesn’t morph into something more flamboyant just because he’d rather love a man than a woman. Also, there’s no need to refer to him as my gay friend. He’s my friend. No adjectives needed.”

Dad waved me off again. “I’m sure he was helpful in the décor department.”

I ground my teeth, but as much as his comments about my best friend perturbed me, I preferred that frustration to what I experienced when my brother spoke again.

“Nope. I heard Logan Becker was there. All. Day. Long.”

My parents both snapped their eyes to me then, Dad’s brows furrowing and Mom’s mouth popping open in a shocked O as they waited for an explanation.

“Calm down,” I said, holding up both hands like I’d just been accused of doing meth. I ignored the way my heart pounded hard inside my chest, hoping they couldn’t see right through the lie I was about to tell. “He’s good at organizing things, which I learned from our punishment this week.” I gave Dad a pointed look. “Thanks for that, by the way. I’m sure you and Uncle Mac loved thinking that one up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dad lied. I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t press him on it. “And don’t turn this on me. Why was Logan Becker at your shop?”

“Unpacking boxes, building furniture, hanging art, setting up and organizing supplies in a way that would make sense for classes. He was helping,” I emphasized. “Which is more than any of you three have done, and you’re my family. So, back off.”

Mom seemed to relax a bit, reaching for her mimosa for a sip, but Dad narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be hanging out with him outside of what’s necessary during your training at the distillery.”

“Yeah, well, you also didn’t think it was a good idea for me to pierce my nose, but, here we are.”

“Do not get smart with me, young lady,” he barked, and Malcolm snickered, which earned him a swift kick to the shin under the table.

“Relax,” I said as my brother rubbed his leg. “I’m not hooking up with Logan Becker, Dad.”

Mom gasped. “Mallory Loraine!”

“What?” I shrugged. “That’s what he’s thinking. That’s why he’s all freaked out.”

“That’s enough, Mallory,” Dad warned under his breath, and it was just as our appetizer of cinnamon bread was brought to the table. He smiled at the waiter, thanking him, and glared at me one last time before he unraveled his napkin. “I just want to remind you to keep your distance and remember the deal we have in place. I wouldn’t want you to lose everything you’ve worked so hard for over something stupid.” His eyes hardened, but then he pulled his gaze away, smiling at Mom and reaching over to squeeze her hand. “Now, I think we’ve had enough of this talk at the table. Malcolm, tell us how things are going in the marketing department.”